Just Like Always
by v-kwon
Summary: Ichigo and Rukia engage in an unusual conversation about moles and offsprings.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach, nor am I making any moolah off this.

_Just Like Always_  
_By, Nishikido-Rikku_

He's first to get home, just like always. With the usual scowl adorning his face, his back arches against the wall as he seats himself, finding comfort on the loose bed sheets. His bottom lip anxiously wedged between his teeth, he wonders what's taking her so long. But he lets the feeling of concern slide as he props his sock-shorn feet on the bed, dragging the already messy creases to another extent.

He stirs around, suddenly bored out of his mind, content on finding something to put him at ease. A manga, perhaps. But not the shoujo stuff she reads. No, he never found anything remotely interesting in those. His target was shounen and nothing else would do.

But the familiar sound of a window pane sliding open and caressing its frame catches his attention. Unconsciously, his eyes follow the raven-haired beauty as she leaps from the windowsill and unto the floorboards. Neither of them speaks a word as he observes her routine entrance.

With a distant sigh, she corners herself, just like always. He watches from the corner of his eye as the death god practices her usual procedure of climbing into the cramped space above, and indulging into another shoujo manga, most likely lent to her by a certain bubbly red head.

It's unusually quiet but it doesn't irk him. Kon's basking in silent hell, locked up in Yuzu's room, just like always. He wonders what kind of costume his sister's pulling together now with such a crafty hand - that would rival that of Ishida's - when in the company of a sewing kit. Secretly, and almost sadistically, he grins in amusement at the thought of that particular stuffed toy, cornered and tousled between teddy bears and plushies, probably filled with horror as another dress and snippets of lace strip him of his dignity, or lack thereof.

And everything just feels the same. Boring, maybe, but he wouldn't have it any other way. The usual period of silence after another agonizing day of school and teens with raging hormones, Kon's silent screams being dutifully noted, Rukia's reassuring presence in the solitary confinement of his closet, and the daily ritual of inwardly thanking her for it.

Chancing a glimpse at the petit figure behind the wooden boards, he notices she's looking back at him.

"Ne, Ichigo…"

"What?"

"Do you ever wonder where you'll be, years from now?"

His scowl darkens. "Why should that matter to you? You're a Shinigami – you'll live forever."

"I know, but," Rukia frowns in thought, setting her manga aside as she turns over to lie on her stomach and stare at the wall before her. She brings a small index finger towards her chin and proceeds to tap at it, as a gesture of deep thinking. "I want to hear an answer from a human… Your lives are so limited, after all."

Ichigo can't help but find her display admirably cute. But he'd drop dead before he admits that to her. "I… don't know," he says in response to her previous question, directing his gaze towards the bare ceiling. "I mean, I don't even know how long this Shinigami business is going to go on for… who's to say I won't be killed by it?"

"That's not a nice thought, Ichigo."

"You asked for it."

She sighs, still not quite satisfied. "But what do you want to do with you life? Let's say," the death god promptly shuts her mouth, still ticking at the skin just below her delicate lower lip. "Let's say you never met me. You're the normal and boring Kurosaki Ichigo, living your life just the way you want to – normal and boring."

"I take offence to that."

"I'm not done."

He glances back at the Shinigami, only to see her bury her neck and chin in the arms she's neatly folded onto her pillow.

"Where do you think you'd be, say, 20 years from now, granted you never became a substitute death god?"

He doesn't want to believe it, but he knows the aching feeling in his chest had only just come along when Rukia mentioned his life without her. He frowns heavily, folding his arms across his chest as he allows his back to fall unto the comfy mattress. "I don't intend to think so far ahead -"

"Or you just don't intend to think."

"Shut it, Rukia." Ichigo sighs, refusing to pay homage to what was merely another one of her snarky comments. "But… I think I'd be just like every other human being. Aging normally, living normally… well, that's to say if I ever get away from dad -"

"But what about love?" she ponders, still not looking directly at him. "Do you think you'll fall in love?"

_Or have I already?_, he thinks, taking a deep drag of clean air. "Go figure. Love's a complicated thing."

"Then what about kids? Don't you want children?"

Ichigo blushes, careful to turn on his side so that Rukia has a view of his back, rather than the beet red colour sprawling across his cheeks. That is, if she ever turns over to look at him again. "Sure, I'd like kids… I know my sisters would love them too, but… that's just another complicated thing."

"So you're just going to grow old?" her voice sounds almost disappointed. "Just like that? Become grey and feeble like 'normal' people do?"

"Well -"

"You'll be all wrinkly, and demanding… then you'll start growing weird moles in unusual places -"

"If you're so concerned about my future, then why don't _you_ tell me how it'll work out?" he's beginning to feel irritated.

The death god takes a moment to gather her thoughts as her face continues to sink into the pillow. "I think," her voice is a bit muffled at first. "I think you'd finish school, end up with some office job, marry some sweet, quiet girl who'd love you forever as she bears you a dozen offsprings!"

He's at a loss for words as he shifts over to stare down that small head of hers. Did she really think of all that in a matter of a few seconds? And was that even what he wants in the first place? "Sounds boring to me."

"That's because one way or another, your life would still be miserably boring without me." Rukia looks over her shoulder, smiling as their eyes finally meet again. A true, genuine smile.

For a moment, he stares back into her violet orbs, confused but grateful at the same time. Did he just hear her right? Finally he recoils himself and snorts. "If that's how you see it…"

"Yep."

"Yep."

Suddenly, it appears Rukia's finally ended the matter as her forgotten manga is brought back into focus. Casually, she flips through the pages as Ichigo's mind continues to rattle him about their discussion.

"Ne, Rukia…"

"Hm?"

"When I do get old… and say you're not with me anymore," he feels awkwardly uneasy as his mind struggles to find the remaining words, "would you still come back to visit me?"

But that is not all he means to say. He wants to know, to be reassured, that that 'raven-haired beauty' is going to come back, years from now, not only to visit him, but to pester him. To ask him a million meaningless questions in one day, depend on him to make a juice box function correctly, rant to him on and on about how Chappy completes her life… and most importantly, to follow his lead and always return to that one closet of his, so that he can continue to silently thank her for simply being there, beside him.

Just like always.

"Of course, Ichigo," she chuckles, an apparent ring of confidence in her tone of voice, "if anything, it'll be worth it just to see you get all wrinkly and mole-ly."

And that's good enough for him.

-Owari.


End file.
